Tribute for Mama: ON DEATH & LOVE

My name is Alissa Collins and I am Shelley’s daughter.

On behalf of myself and my 2 brothers Thomas and Patrick, I want to thank you all for being here today as we gather to say goodbye to our mother.

We’ve been in liminal time — caught between her death and coming down with Covid the day after she passed—a wild experience that has been disorienting and humbling.

But such are the times, and the community that raised us up — Mrs Vu — graciously stayed the night with Thom and I, made her healing broths, and supported us in our greatest time of need.
If that isn’t a true test of character, that my mom would have also embodied, then I don’t know what is.

We come to celebrate an extraordinary woman.
A mother, grandmother, sister, partner, cousin, best friend, colleague, and citizen of community.

I’m one of the lucky 3 that gets to call her mom.
A truly special and unique place to be with Shelley calling the shots.

She was always... Read more interested in the world, which paved way for my brothers and I to
feel the textures,
absorb the sights,
and smell the scents of this beautiful world.

She was a conductor of my life!
She orchestrated the Japanese Immersion Program, years of swimming, interesting job ideas, college tours, study abroad possibilities, and dreams…

She, alongside my dad, wove a beautiful life for us kids.
Of course in that span of 30 years of raising children, there were times of great struggle too.
A storied and complex marriage, a love-hate with Alaska, a painful longing for more warmth…

And the struggle of where she came from, her roots
tended to and nourished by the prairie of South Dakota set in motion a life of choice:

To marry the dairy farmer down the road or find another way?

I can remember her rejecting the thought of more hard labor, the wife of a dairy farmer,
which really motivated her to get educated and secure a good job so she could wear pretty things and not be a burden!

And when she wasn’t wrestling with the complexity of life’s big decisions, I recall her reminiscing about the lighter times of growing up:
Riding her pony Tony, her mother’s comfort, camping and skiing in the badlands — times that seemed to set in stone a deep love-affair with the-more-than-human-world that persisted until the end.

Alaska became home after that - more adventure and stunning beauty than she could ever dream of.

Her soul called through even if she never named it that way.
It made her do things like teach young children how to cross-country ski!
I know there are plenty of folks here today that understand the pain and suffering of this soul calling!
Imagine 20 degrees, fresh snow, and your child wailing, demanding that she “leave me on the trail and kill me NOW!”

But she was stubborn and resolute.
She wanted to teach us!
She wanted it done THIS way.
“Beds made everyday.” she would holler!
“To survive winter,” she would state, “we have to ski!”

Which led us to the wilds of Kincaid Park - one of the greatest places on earth!
Access to that park has been one of the most meaningful gifts she ever gave to us children.
She showed us the old growth cottonwood and birch trees, which tended to OUR souls each and every time.

She was opinionated and trenchant. 
I suppose you had to be—to stick to the course—to help us kids put the puzzle pieces of life together.

Summer was her favorite time of year - a respite from these ultra-marathon winters.
We would bike a lot - out to Kincaid Park, along the coastal trail.
Her Trek, her prized possession, enabled her to soak it all in during summer and fall.

She found solace in the garden too.
Red geraniums, purple and blue lobelia, yellow pansies, pink sweet peas.
She loved her Himalayan Blue poppy that would bloom once per summer.
She planted trees when we were born and at each subsequent home we made.
Her raspberry patch was divine and so was her jam.

I loved seeing her in her element, playful and wild and free, showing me the way to BE outside. 
“I’m tough,” she would declare. “My temperature cutoff is minus 5 degrees.” She was proud of her dedication to the trails despite the conditions. 
Of course there was never a heat limit
Through those outings and declarations, she showed me that I too can do hard things.

She had a zest for life.
Anthropology and Lucy fascinated her.
French did too.
Birds - the eagle, raven, chickadee, Bohemian waxwings — she especially loved when the waxwings returned as it was a sure sign of spring.
The leatherback turtles and their nests in Costa Rica.
Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach, Oregon
Playing with her grandson Lucas
Zumba
Wine
And chocolate + yogurt for breakfast sometimes.

She was funny. Her sense of humor seasoned with age.
She was always seeking the next slightly smutty British hit — has anyone watched Poldark here? 😄

She always brought people in - inviting them, welcoming them with her bright smile.
After retiring from Providence - a place she had a love-hate relationship with, she found herself working with people - a welcomed change from the machines of the lab.
It was so much fun to watch her connect with people from all over the world and help them feel at home here in Anchorage.
During those years, she also became a mother figure for many too.

Ultimately, she wanted us to have a better life—a more whole life—a life where all levels of consciousness (mind, body, emotions, spirit) are activated and alive.
My mother laid the groundwork for me to “create a better, more whole life”.
She helped me see beauty all around me—in all ecosystems and places and people.
My mother’s curiosity of the world infused into me and has made my life richer, deeper, more resonant.

Her journey in this life inspired such deep questions and inquiry that I feel clear on how to bring forth her kindness, generosity, zest, and spirit into this world.

So, thank you all once more for being here today as we honor our beautiful mother.

A heartfelt and special thank you to:
her sisters Patricia Bieber and Nancy Thiex for grounding us during the hardest transition into hospice and the transactional parts of death,
Mike Swinford for being her companion in life and death,
to Carol LaRose for her cooking and deep abiding, friendship,
Frank and Bev for all the small acts of thoughtfulness and showing up consistently,
Stan and Anna Mayra by opening their home to us when we all needed another place to stay,
Mrs Aubrey Vu who arrived when us children needed it most
To all you lovely humans who dropped off food, checked in, showed up, and supported us during this time.

And lastly, thank you to my brothers for showing up so authentically, genuinely, and able to do the heart and gut wrenching work of caretaking at our mother’s deathbed. I have never witnessed magic like that. I have also never buckled at the knees, asking God to help me gather the strength to endure. What we created in her room was everything Kabir, Rumi, and Mary Oliver write about. It was poetry in motion. And the fact that our mother instilled in us, the capacity to show up, is a testament to her weavings.

We are blessed beyond measure. Read less

Tribute for Mama: ON DEATH & LOVE

My name is Alissa Collins and I am Shelley’s daughter.

On behalf of myself and my 2 brothers Thomas and Patrick, I want to thank you all for being here today as we gather to say goodbye to our mother.

We’ve been in liminal time — caught between her death and coming down with Covid the day after she passed—a wild experience that has been disorienting and humbling.

But such are the times, and the community that raised us up — Mrs Vu — graciously stayed... Read more the night with Thom and I, made her healing broths, and supported us in our greatest time of need.
If that isn’t a true test of character, that my mom would have also embodied, then I don’t know what is.

We come to celebrate an extraordinary woman.
A mother, grandmother, sister, partner, cousin, best friend, colleague, and citizen of community.

I’m one of the lucky 3 that gets to call her mom.
A truly special and unique place to be with Shelley calling the shots.

She was always interested in the world, which paved way for my brothers and I to
feel the textures,
absorb the sights,
and smell the scents of this beautiful world.

She was a conductor of my life!
She orchestrated the Japanese Immersion Program, years of swimming, interesting job ideas, college tours, study abroad possibilities, and dreams…

She, alongside my dad, wove a beautiful life for us kids.
Of course in that span of 30 years of raising children, there were times of great struggle too.
A storied and complex marriage, a love-hate with Alaska, a painful longing for more warmth…

And the struggle of where she came from, her roots
tended to and nourished by the prairie of South Dakota set in motion a life of choice:

To marry the dairy farmer down the road or find another way?

I can remember her rejecting the thought of more hard labor, the wife of a dairy farmer,
which really motivated her to get educated and secure a good job so she could wear pretty things and not be a burden!

And when she wasn’t wrestling with the complexity of life’s big decisions, I recall her reminiscing about the lighter times of growing up:
Riding her pony Tony, her mother’s comfort, camping and skiing in the badlands — times that seemed to set in stone a deep love-affair with the-more-than-human-world that persisted until the end.

Alaska became home after that - more adventure and stunning beauty than she could ever dream of.

Her soul called through even if she never named it that way.
It made her do things like teach young children how to cross-country ski!
I know there are plenty of folks here today that understand the pain and suffering of this soul calling!
Imagine 20 degrees, fresh snow, and your child wailing, demanding that she “leave me on the trail and kill me NOW!”

But she was stubborn and resolute.
She wanted to teach us!
She wanted it done THIS way.
“Beds made everyday.” she would holler!
“To survive winter,” she would state, “we have to ski!”

Which led us to the wilds of Kincaid Park - one of the greatest places on earth!
Access to that park has been one of the most meaningful gifts she ever gave to us children.
She showed us the old growth cottonwood and birch trees, which tended to OUR souls each and every time.

She was opinionated and trenchant. 
I suppose you had to be—to stick to the course—to help us kids put the puzzle pieces of life together.

Summer was her favorite time of year - a respite from these ultra-marathon winters.
We would bike a lot - out to Kincaid Park, along the coastal trail.
Her Trek, her prized possession, enabled her to soak it all in during summer and fall.

She found solace in the garden too.
Red geraniums, purple and blue lobelia, yellow pansies, pink sweet peas.
She loved her Himalayan Blue poppy that would bloom once per summer.
She planted trees when we were born and at each subsequent home we made.
Her raspberry patch was divine and so was her jam.

I loved seeing her in her element, playful and wild and free, showing me the way to BE outside. 
“I’m tough,” she would declare. “My temperature cutoff is minus 5 degrees.” She was proud of her dedication to the trails despite the conditions. 
Of course there was never a heat limit
Through those outings and declarations, she showed me that I too can do hard things.

She had a zest for life.
Anthropology and Lucy fascinated her.
French did too.
Birds - the eagle, raven, chickadee, Bohemian waxwings — she especially loved when the waxwings returned as it was a sure sign of spring.
The leatherback turtles and their nests in Costa Rica.
Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach, Oregon
Playing with her grandson Lucas
Zumba
Wine
And chocolate + yogurt for breakfast sometimes.

She was funny. Her sense of humor seasoned with age.
She was always seeking the next slightly smutty British hit — has anyone watched Poldark here? 😄

She always brought people in - inviting them, welcoming them with her bright smile.
After retiring from Providence - a place she had a love-hate relationship with, she found herself working with people - a welcomed change from the machines of the lab.
It was so much fun to watch her connect with people from all over the world and help them feel at home here in Anchorage.
During those years, she also became a mother figure for many too.

Ultimately, she wanted us to have a better life—a more whole life—a life where all levels of consciousness (mind, body, emotions, spirit) are activated and alive.
My mother laid the groundwork for me to “create a better, more whole life”.
She helped me see beauty all around me—in all ecosystems and places and people.
My mother’s curiosity of the world infused into me and has made my life richer, deeper, more resonant.

Her journey in this life inspired such deep questions and inquiry that I feel clear on how to bring forth her kindness, generosity, zest, and spirit into this world.

So, thank you all once more for being here today as we honor our beautiful mother.

A heartfelt and special thank you to:
her sisters Patricia Bieber and Nancy Thiex for grounding us during the hardest transition into hospice and the transactional parts of death,
Mike Swinford for being her companion in life and death,
to Carol LaRose for her cooking and deep abiding, friendship,
Frank and Bev for all the small acts of thoughtfulness and showing up consistently,
Stan and Anna Mayra by opening their home to us when we all needed another place to stay,
Mrs Aubrey Vu who arrived when us children needed it most
To all you lovely humans who dropped off food, checked in, showed up, and supported us during this time.

And lastly, thank you to my brothers for showing up so authentically, genuinely, and able to do the heart and gut wrenching work of caretaking at our mother’s deathbed. I have never witnessed magic like that. I have also never buckled at the knees, asking God to help me gather the strength to endure. What we created in her room was everything Kabir, Rumi, and Mary Oliver write about. It was poetry in motion. And the fact that our mother instilled in us, the capacity to show up, is a testament to her weavings.

We are blessed beyond measure. Read less

Lessons from Shelley (1956-2022)

I shared "Ways to Honor Shelley's Life"

Smile (and light up a room).
Get your annual skin check, and protect your skin from sunlight (seriously).
Take time to smell the roses (literally).
Let go of your grief.
Laugh out loud, dance and find humor in any situation.
Don’t procrastinate your dreams – life is incredibly short.
Travel the world.
Volunteer!
Appreciate the arts; support the arts.
Feed the birds.
Grow something-give something; plant something-donate something.
Seek the beauty in nature.

Honor Shelley's life by doing some or all of these.
We will miss you, Shelley.

Lessons from Shelley (1956-2022)

I shared "Ways to Honor Shelley's Life"

Smile (and light up a room).
Get your annual skin check, and protect your skin from sunlight (seriously).
Take time to smell the roses (literally).
Let go of your grief.
Laugh out loud, dance and find humor in any situation.
Don’t procrastinate your dreams – life is incredibly short.
Travel the world.
Volunteer!
Appreciate the arts; support the arts.
Feed the birds.
Grow something-give... Read more something; plant something-donate something.
Seek the beauty in nature.

Honor Shelley's life by doing some or all of these.
We will miss you, Shelley. Read less

SHELLEY RUTH WENDT

daughter of Atlas and Verla
sister of Nancy, Patricia, and David
mother of Alissa, Thomas, and Patrick
grandmother of Lucas
special friend of Michael

daughter of the Great Plains
woman of the Great Land
lover of mountains, trees, birds, wildlife, and oceans
honorary member of the Cloud Appreciation Society
volunteer and advocate for the most vulnerable among us
appreciator of national parks, very fine socks, an out-loud laugh, family and friends, written words, the color blue, and long walks

I share the following poem in your memory today.

When I Am Among the Trees
by Mary Oliver

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around... Read more me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."

I leave you with this thought:

Micah 6:8 NIV
"He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.:

Rest in Peace Shelley, we will miss you.

Patricia Wendt Bieber Read less

SHELLEY RUTH WENDT

daughter of Atlas and Verla
sister of Nancy, Patricia, and David
mother of Alissa, Thomas, and Patrick
grandmother of Lucas
special friend of Michael

daughter of the Great Plains
woman of the Great Land
lover of mountains, trees, birds, wildlife, and oceans
honorary member of the Cloud Appreciation Society
volunteer and advocate for the most vulnerable among us
appreciator of national parks, very fine socks, an out-loud laugh, family and friends, written words, ... Read morethe color blue, and long walks

I share the following poem in your memory today.

When I Am Among the Trees
by Mary Oliver

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."

I leave you with this thought:

Micah 6:8 NIV
"He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.:

Rest in Peace Shelley, we will miss you.

Patricia Wendt Bieber Read less